The Phantom of the Alto
by Chanandaler Bong
Summary: Ch. 20 is up! Sorry that took so long! Genevieve is a young alto in the Paris Opera House who becomes perplexed by the mystique of the Phantom. PLEASE read and review...I love hearing what you have to say!
1. Altos Don't Get Leads

Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters. I do own my story line and the characters created to go with it. Enjoy!!!

1. Altos Don't Get Leads

The sun rose above a red horizon lighting the roof of the Paris Opera House. This day would mark the opening night of _La Boehm,_ starring soprano Veronique DuBois. Madame Giry was exceptionally nervous whether the Phantom would approve of this new soprano after the leave of his beloved Christine only a few months ago. Things had been awfully quiet concerning the Phantom and the cast was able to rehearse the opera diligently within those few months to try and regain popularity in order to keep the opera house running.

A young girl, about the age of nineteen awoke from her bed within the opera house to the rising sun. She looked out her window at this new day and smiled knowing tonight would be opening night. She hoped with all her might the Phantom would not destroy this performance and ruin the Opera house for good. This would be their last chance to mend the ruined by he Phantom of the last performance—the performance with Christine in his own _Don Juan_.

"Get up! Get up!" Madame Giry screamed from outside her door. The girl, Genevieve, sprang instantly from her bed.

"I am awake, Madame!" She answered back.

Genevieve was orphaned when she was about 12 years of age, after both her parents tragically died in a fire. Alone, with no relatives, Genevieve learned to fend for herself on the busy and dangerous Parisian streets. It wasn't until one cold winter night when she was around the age of 14, that she was rescued. Madame Giry, who had found the unfortunate girl curled up in a ball on the front steps of the opera house, desperately trying to remain warm, was so moved with pity that she took the girl in.

At the age of 19, now fully nourished back to life, Genevieve had performed in every single production at the opera house since her rescue. Her childhood dreams of being the prima donna of the opera, however, would never come true. She had a beautiful singing voice, a natural gift given to her by her mother, but she could never lead in an opera, for her voice was anything but soprano. Her voice, characterized by rich notes and depth, was that of an alto. For years, she craved to sing soprano. She would lock herself in the room with the piano and work on her range for hours upon hours, trying to reach those desperately high notes which would classify her as a prima donna soprano. Alas, her highest note only reached to be a high C, which, most would say she would be a soprano, but in the opera, a high C would only classify you as a mezzo.

Genevieve would say that she now loved being an alto. Not singing the melodies tuned her musical ear ever so slightly that she could sight-read any harmony give to her while rehearsing for any opera. She even began to develop perfect pitch.

In her lonesome hours, Genevieve would compose short songs, writing the notes down on left over manuscript paper. Sometimes, she would remain awake in to the late hours of the night, working on pieces inspired by incidents in the theatre. Her most recent song was a song about the Phantom of the Opera and his passion for Christine. She found that entire experience amazing and unforgettable and felt that it deserved to be written about—in song, the way the Phantom probably would have liked it.

Genevieve made her way through the halls to back stage where she was assisted into her make up and costume for the beginning of Act 1.

The cast and crew were all in a bustle getting ready for this evening's performance.

"You better give the performance of your life," Madame Giry said to Veronique, "The Phantom will undoubtedly be watching."

"Aye Madame! Would you expect me to give anything less?!" Veronique exclaimed, almost offended by Madame's remark. Veronique shoved herself past Madame and Genevieve in a huff, trying to find her costume lady.

"Oh, Veronique, don't feel too much pressure about tonight—I'm sure the Phantom is going to love your performance." Genevieve said, trying to make Veronique feel better. Rather than accept this complement from this simple and genuine girl, Veronique explodes.

"Listen to me, you…you…you little pariah," She snapped, "I don't care whatever that 'Phantom' thinks about me or this performance. I'm the star here in this opera house—not you. So if you ever come near me again, I'll have you kicked out of this house—you don't even belong her." She turned to leave, then paused and turned back.

"And one more thing," she added, "altos don't get leads." She walked away in a huff leaving the helpless Genevieve stunned, not knowing what to say or how to react.


	2. Impressing the Phantom

2. Impressing the Phantom

"Oh Genevieve, pay no attention to her," Meg said, Madame Giry's daughter.

"I…I…I don't even know what to think." Genevieve said finally, suddenly feeling shaken up.

"You know you're better than her—she's just some diva soprano."

"But she's right, Meg. Altos don't get leads. I mean, I don't care about that—I've gotten over that. It's just the fact that she makes it a point to point it out!"

"You have more musical talent in one ounce of your finger than she has in her entire body, Vive." Meg said, rubbing her back.

The two girls laughed.

"There, don't you feel better now? Come on! We've got a performance to get through tonight! We have to make it the best one yet!" She exclaimed.

"You're right, Meg." Genevieve replied.

"And besides, we've got a Phantom to impress." Meg rose to feet. "I want to see you ready for places in 20 minutes, Mademoiselle Genevieve! We've got a show to run!" She smiled and walked off into the mass of performers and crew.

Genevieve rose to her feet as well, "Wait, Meg…you don't think that the Phantom still resides here…do you?" She asked, suddenly. "I believed that he disappeared after Christine left!"

"We all have different things we believe about this opera house, Vive. I believe he's still here. This is the only life he's ever known."

Genevieve looked around, almost as though she could feel his presence.

"I thought you believe in him, Vive! You mentioned him to Veronique!" Meg exclaimed.

"I was trying to lighten the mood with a little joke—but apparently people are still shaken up by this opera ghost." Genevieve replied.

"You can believe whatever you want," Meg began.

"Oh I'm sure he's here sometimes." Genevieve replied. Meg looked around and saw her mother staring at her.

"Vive, be in places in 10 minutes…and don't scared of the Phantom!" She smiled as she ran into the crowd.

Genevieve walked to the side of the stage and slipped behind the curtain. Wedging we way through the cast and crew, she made her way to a door. She slowly opened the door, making sure no body was watching, and slid into the room. A sole candle was lit as she took a seat at the piano. She took hold of the candle and lit the other candles that surrounded the piano. Sighing deep, she stretched out her hands and began to caress the piano keys with tender notes of her most recently composed song.

As she played, she began to feel a light breeze begin to play with the flickering candles.

"Genevieve," A voice whispered through the flicker.

Immediately fearing the Phantom, she screamed and ran from the room as the breeze blew out the remaining candles.

"Places for Act 1" Madame Giry called as Genevieve ran up the backstage stairs .

"Where did you go?" Meg asked, noticing Genevieve was out of breath.

"I was playing the piano." She replied through breaths.

"Why are you out of breath?" Meg asked quietly, knowing the performance would be starting soon.

"The Phantom—he's here." Genevieve said. "I heard him, Meg! He whispered my name as I played."

"So he will be attending this evening's performance then." Meg grinned as the curtain opened. "I knew he was still here."

"Time to impress." Genevieve whispered to Meg through clenched teeth. The girls both smiled as they began their performance.


	3. A Discovery

3. A Discovery

The Phantom took his seat in box 5 as the opera began. Tonight he was ready to sit back and watch was had been rehearsed for a number of weeks. This would be his first time back in the actual theatre since the disaster of his _Don Juan_. He was amazed at the recovery of the theatre from the fire. As he looked around, he noticed that it hadn't changed much at all, and this pleased him.

He was clad in his regular attire prior to that infamous evening. His white mask glowed bright against his black apparel, and his almost black hair was slicked back as it had once been. He himself seemed to be glowing—his inner pride for his newly-repaired opera house was shining through him. Everything about this evening's performance was open to the Phantom—except one thing…or person: the leading soprano.

As he sat and listened to Veronique down below, he began to feel his heart beat faster as all he could think of was Christine. He loved her—but he let her go. He let her go because he loved her. How he longed to hear her sweet music again on that stage. He shut his eyes tightly as he listened to that soprano beneath, screech all those high notes.

He had been watching Veronique for quite some time throughout the rehearsals and he grew to dislike her greatly. She was somewhat like Charlotta in her younger days—a more innocent, but still arrogant, soprano Prima Donna. But rather than interrupting this performance, he sat back and waited for the parts he loved to hear: Genevieve.

Genevieve was a new discovery and he still wasn't quite so sure of his fondness for mademoiselle, but something about her musical talent drew he to her over any other on that stage. He was mostly impressed with her talent for music writing, her voice second. She was, after all, an alto, and this troubled him a bit. His beloved Christina was a sweet singing soprano—but his fondness for Genevieve was more infatuation and awe at her talents.

Below the Phantom and his wandering thoughts, the opera began Act 3, with a stanza sung by an alto—Genevieve.

She sang with everything she had, she sang with so much integrity, she could have sworn she noticed the audience suddenly sit forward in their seats, attentive to her every note.

Up in the balcony, the Phantom, caught off his guard from his thoughts, sprang up from his seat as he heard this majestic and melodious voice from below. He leaned over the edge to catch a glimpse of the wonderful creature who could put forth such a voice with such rich musicality. He was taken back by the face and slender petite figure on the stage. Genevieve appeared before his eyes and his breath was taken away.

When the girl finished her stanza, she audience unexpectedly clapped, as did the Phantom. He sat back down, this time at the edge of his seat, intently listening to hear this voice in the chorus. He didn't care about one thing in this opera except for the discovery of this alto with the amazing voice. Genevieve was his new discovery, and a slight part of him even began to feel threatened by her talents in comparison to Christine's. Of course you can't compare a soprano to an alto, but in some ways, you can…and in this instant, the Phantom fell whole heartedly infatuated with this alto's voice—more-so than he ever did with Christine's soprano voice. He never thought this day would come—and it finally had. A new discovery was at hand—and now, it was up to him to train this alto.


	4. A Message from the Opera Ghost

4. A Message from the Opera Ghost

The opera ended with a grand applause and standing ovation from the audience. Up in box 5, the Phantom stood, stunned, and turned quickly to go. He retreated into the shadows and catacombs of the theatre, avoiding all persons, hoping to eventually find a time when he could contact mademoiselle Genevieve Laureate.

"Genevieve, your stanza was absolutely perfect!" Meg congratulated her.

"Thank you, Meg." She replied with bright smile.

"I have never seen an audience react to a chorus soloist as they had with you," Meg continued on.

"Meg," Genevieve grabbed Meg and pulled her aside, "I know the Phantom was here tonight—when I was singing, I could feel his eyes on me."

"I don't doubt he wasn't interested in your voice, Vive," Meg smiled, "after all, he was Christine's teacher. He knows talent when he hears it."

"I don't know if I'm ready to face him if the time comes." Genevieve said, beginning to look frightened.

"Don't be frightened, you'll be safe here." Meg replied.

"I know he knows who I am—Meg, he whispered my name while I played piano! He knows who I am!" She exclaimed, her fear burning through her eyes.

"Calm down—he would never hurt a performer with such talent—and you know he wouldn't be nearly as obsessed with you as he was with Christine—he was in love with Christine." Meg smiled and took her hand and led her through the crowd.

"My goodness! Miss Laureate! A pleasure to meet you." Andre, one of the owners of the opera house greeted Genevieve.

"The pleasure is mine, Monsieur," Genevieve curtseyed.

"Such an elegant voice you have," he said with a smile.

"Thank you, Monsieur," she replied genuinely and continued on next to Meg.

"Genevieve—you sang your stanza like I've heard no other," Madame Giry complemented.

"Thank you, Madame," Genevieve replied.

"No doubt the opera ghost heard you this evening," Madame said with a twinkle in her eyes.

"I told her that the Phantom must seek her out now!" Meg exclaimed to her mother.

"Perhaps you may be his new student, Genevieve?" Madame inquired.

"Perhaps," She replied softly, thinking to herself that it would be absolute madness to pursue any sort of training from this masked shadow—especially after the incident with Christine.

The following day came and with the rising of the sun, an early rehearsal. As the cast and crew gathered onto the stage, Madame Giry walked briskly to the front of the crowd to get to the owners, Andre and Piange.

"I have received a message from the Opera Ghost," she said apathetically.

"The Opera Ghost?!" Andre exclaimed, "what opera ghost?"

"Certainly not the one who plagued this very theatre when Christine Daae performed only one year ago?" Piange asked.

"I believe so, Monsieur," Madame replied, opening the letter.

"Good God in Heaven—not this again." Piange said, slapping his forehead.

"This Phantom was most definitely of a hostile nature and I say we execute him once and for all this time!" Exclaimed a cast member.

"Hold your tongue!" Madame strictly ordered as she unfolded the letter.

"It says: 'Monsieur's, Madame's and Madamoiselle's of the theatre, bravo for an excellent show last night. All seemed to run smoothly and as expected, however, I do have some requests to make now that things are back in order for my Opera House. My salary is due on exactly one week and fully expect it's arrival to be timely. I expect that box 5 will be kept open at all times, as it is there for my use only. Lastly, I am completely aware of the next opera, and request it to be changed to _Peter Pan_, and the lead must go to mademoiselle Laureate, who proved herself to be the most brilliant on last night's stage. O.G.'"

"Here we go again, Andre,"

"No—this is where we messed up last time—if we just go with what he says, then everything will work out just fine." Andre said.

"What do you suggest we do Madame?" Piange asked helplessly.

"When the Opera Ghost has a request, I would suggest you answer it, Monsieur," She replied.


	5. Shadow of Mystery

5. Shadow of Mystery

The Phantom ghost lurked down in his labyrinth. He sat at his piano bench which was lit my numerous candles and took hold of a plume and some manuscript paper. Looking at his previously written work of his latest opera, he scribbled a few more notes down to complete the alto cadence.

Lying in her bed in the ballet dormitory, Genevieve wondered about the Phantom. She had heard his mysterious but wondrous voice whisper to her, and now he requested for her to perform in a leading role! How could she possibly do this? She doubted that the managers would actually cast her in the role of Peter Pan. It would probably go to Colette Ponmercy, another alto. –But Peter Pan isn't even an opera…or at least one that she knew of. Perhaps the Phantom had written it.

Genevieve remained awake, thinking all kinds of thoughts about this opera she had never heard of and the consequences of becoming the possible lead of the spectacular.

The Phantom rose from his seat at the bench as he finished the last note of his work. He nodded satisfactorily as he flipped through the copious amount of manuscript pages. In the candlelight, he walked through his labyrinth in search for something, not entirely sure if he would actually find it or not.

Genevieve was plagued by so many thoughts her head began to ache in pain. She shut her eyes tumultuously in hopes the thinking would go away and she would fall into a slumber so deep not even a Phantom could awaken her.

As she lay, new thoughts began to fill her head about the Phantom of the Opera. This unseen opera ghost proved to be much more garrulous than she would have thought, though he lived a more furtive life away from society.

She imagined what he might look like. He had heard rumors of him dressed in black with a white mask covering his hideous face. "Those who see his face draw back in fear", she recalled, her eyes still closed with thoughts.

But what of his face? Only the most superficial people would actually draw back in fear of somebody's unfortunate appearance. If it is indeed true, then he must feel awful about his life. Genevieve was not frightened by any means of what could possibly lay behind that mask.

Something inside of her began longing for this clandestine man, who retreats away to his underground labyrinth. The mystery behind the opera ghost was beginning to sound appealing to Genevieve, rather than frightening.

The Phantom found exactly what he had been looking for. Once in hand, he moved back to his shrine of music and took a seat. He called to her.

"Genevieve," a voice whispered throughout her room suddenly. Genevieve sprang up from her bed immediately. Perhaps her thoughts had conjured up the infamous Phantom in this dark hour of the night.

"Genevieve," the voice said again, this time much louder.

"Opera ghost? Is it you?" She replied back, not knowing what else to say.

"It is," replied the Phantom.

"How I've longed to speak with you, shadow of mystery!" Genevieve sighed suddenly, not feeling she had control over what she said.

"I've listened to you and your musical talent is immense, miss. Laureate," he said. "I've thought long about this, and which to take you as my student."

"Oh, shadow of mystery, there's nothing more I'd love more," she replied quickly, "when shall we begin?"


	6. Nightmares

6. Nightmares

Genevieve looked around her room expecting the Phantom to appear, but he never did.

"Sing," he instructed her.

"Sing what, dark shade?" She asked softly.

"The alto aria _Ouvre Ton Coeur_," he replied. Suddenly, music began to fill the room. Genevieve looked around to see if she could see him playing, but there was nobody in sight. She sang the aria, which she knew like the back of her hand. Once she finished singing, she paused, waiting, expecting the Phantom to say something else.

"Sing the _Pie Jesu_ from Fauré's _Requiem_," he instructed.

"But shadow of mystery, that is a soprano solo, and I am an alto," she said, trying not seem too imposing.

"Sing it," he said again. The opening chord sounded and she began to sing the solo. Thankfully this _Requiem_ was among one of her favorites and she knew it well.

When she finished, she closed her eyes, ashamed that the Phantom had to hear her sing a soprano song.

"You need more support on all of your higher notes," he said finally, "and that goes for your alto songs as well."

"Thank you, master." She replied respectfully.

"However, I see your vocal range is big and needs little tuning, just breath support to ensure that your top notes will not go flat." He said strictly.

"I will work on it, teacher." She replied.

"Now, sing for me that first aria again," he said. The music began and she sang again, this time the way he told her to.

_Ouvre Ton Coeur _was probably her favorite song to sing. Not many altos sang it because it went up to a high F-sharp (F#), claming that it is too high and out of their range. Genevieve, however, could easily sing soprano songs and mezzo-soprano songs, but it took her much more work to get it to sound decent.

When she finished, she breathed a sigh of relief and smiled to herself, knowing that she sang well.

"Bravo," the Phantom said, "keep working until out next meeting, and good night."

"Wait! Opera ghost!" Genevieve called out, "don't leave!" She ran to all parts of her dormitory, searching for where the stranger had been, but found no trace of anybody.

"Come back, please! When shall we meet again?" She cried. After waiting and getting no reply, she lethargically stumbled back to her bed. Just as she got under the blankets, Meg came running into her room.

"Vive! Is everything alright in here?! I heard screaming!" She came running over to her friend and knelt by her bedside.

"Oh, Meg!" Genevieve sighed, pretending to just wake up. "I just had a nightmare about the Opera Ghost, that's all. I must have cried out in my sleep, that's all."

"Oh thank goodness, Vive! I heard screaming and through you had been taken!" Meg breathed a sigh of relief. "Get some sleep. We've got a big day tomorrow." She smiled at Genevieve and stood up.

"Thank you for caring, Meg," Genevieve smiled at her friend.

"Good night, Genevieve." Meg said and shut the door.

Genevieve sat up in bed for a long while after Meg left her. The Phantom of the Opera had visited her…somehow he got through to her. Maybe it had all been a dream. There had been no trace of anyone else in her room that night during her lesson. It must have all been one surrealistic dream. How she now longed to meet the man behind the voice in her head. The mystery of this Phantom had to be unmasked.


	7. Altos Aren't Boys

7. Altos Aren't Boys

"Genevieve, where have you been hiding this entire morning?!" Meg exclaimed running up to Genevieve, who tiredly walked onto the stage.

"I got barely any sleep last night," she said finally, seeing that Madame Giry had her eye on her.

"Oh, I don't doubt it—any nightmare of the Phantom is sure to keep you awake the rest of the night!" Meg laughed. "It's just disappointing, because had you been here this morning, you would have been cast as Peter Pan…" Meg took Genevieve aside and whispered to her, "they gave Peter Pan to Colette."

"Oh God, you're kidding, right?" Genevieve asked, now fully awake; she began tugging awkwardly at her clothing, nervously recalling that she was supposed to be Peter Pan.

"No, I'm not kidding, Vive. Colette got the role—which should have been yours!" She gossiped.

"The Phantom is going to be livid, Meg!" Genevieve exclaimed.

"Yes, I know, but there's really nothing we can do about it—and besides, it's not like you have a close tie to him or anything—not like Christine did—I mean…he'd have to be your teacher in order for him to do something crazy like he did before!" Meg laughed, but Genevieve just chuckled, the worry rising in her eyes.

"Good point, Meg," she agreed through clenched teeth, turning away from her friend.

"We've got nothing to worry about, Vive—this production is going to be splendid!" Meg let go of Genevieve and scampered off into the crowd of rehearsing cast members. Genevieve sat on the stage floor, stunned, not knowing what to think.

"So Genevieve," a tender voice said above her, breaking her trance. Genevieve looked up and saw Colette standing over her. Finally the girl kneeled down next to Genevieve.

"Why the long face, sweetie?" Colette asked, her head slightly tilted to the side.

"Oh, nothing—I'm awfully tired, I didn't get much sleep last night," Genevieve replied.

"Oh, I see. For a moment, I thought you were bitter with me for getting the role of Peter Pan when it was apparently supposed to be yours by request of the Opera Ghost!" She let out a high pitched cackle of laughter that rang through the theatre.

"No, I'm not bitter at all—after all, I did over sleep and miss my chance fair and square," Genevieve replied with a smile, "and besides, I know you're going to do a much better job at this role than I could ever do, Colette,"

"Oh, you're just saying that, Vive! You know…now that I think of it, I've never even heard of Peter Pan being an opera! I've never even heard of Peter Pan! I would imagine I'm the romantic heroine, then, right?"

"Probably—I couldn't imagine it any other way—they didn't tell you the role?" Genevieve asked,

"No, they said they haven't yet received the score," Colette replied.

"I see," Genevieve looked down at the floor and slipped into another trance until she heard the voice of Madame Giry boom above all the rest.

"The score for Peter Pan has arrived by courtesy of the Opera Ghost—it is his opera…and original." Colette jumped up immediately.

"I'll be seeing my role then," she smiled down a Genevieve and scurried into the crowd.

"The role of Peter Pan, the title role, is played by alto, Miss Colette Ponmercy—" Madame announced.

"But Peter? Isn't that a boy's name?" Colette asked innocuously.

"Yes it is, mademoiselle," Andre said.

"Why would he name the female heroine Peter?" She asked seriously.

"Peter isn't a female heroine according to this script, Miss Ponmercy—"

"So…Peter is a…is a…a…**_boy_**?! I have to play the part of a **_boy_**?! ALTOS DON'T PLAY BOYS!" She exclaimed, suddenly furious.

"In opera, they do, Colette," Madame said.

"Oh tush!" Colette pouted and sat down in the corner. She glanced over at Genevieve, who had a hidden smirk on her face.

"Be glad you slept in late—at least you get to be a woman on stage!" Colette remarked to Genevieve, who just shrugged her shoulders and listened to the remaining of the cast list.


	8. Let the Music Caress You

8. Let the Music Caress You

Disclaimer: The Phantom's first words to Genevieve are not mine—they are from the song "Point of No Return"…hence I do not own them and they are not mine. I thought they would have made an interesting…well interesting.  Also, I know the way certain meetings happen is very not original.

Evening came so soon for Genevieve. She quickly found herself after a grueling day, finally lying in seclusion in her bed. It had been only a few weeks since she had had her first lesson with the Opera Ghost; her last one being only a few days ago. Tonight however, she hoped for all to remain silent so she could get some sleep.

She continued to lay there in silence, trying desperately to get to sleep. She never thought sleep would be so difficult to achieve after such a hard day of work at rehearsal.

_Rehearsal,_ she thought, _I can't believe the Phantom has accepted Colette as the leading role when he had specifically asked for me. _

She couldn't believe he had been so passive in this decision. It had been weeks since the casting and he hadn't done one thing. Perhaps he was on to bigger and better things. Well she would hopefully find out some other time. Genevieve had some sleep to catch up on.

"Our games of make believe are at an end…abandon thought and let the dream being," A voice entered her head once more. Genevieve's eye flew open, almost blinded by the unexpected moonlight shining through her winder. She sat up immediately, discarding any previous feelings of fatigue.

"What voice of wonder speaks to me at this hour?" She asked, entranced and standing to her feet.

"Your teacher, my seraph," the Phantom replied. As always, Genevieve began searching her room for the location of the mysterious man behind the mask.

"Shall we have a lesson now, master?" She asked, still seeking.

"You search for something that doesn't exist," he said finally. Genevieve stopped dead and stood straight up, eyes wide.

"Pardon?" She asked softly.

"You seek for me, I feel it is time," he said, his voice soft and inviting. "Look to your candle and straight on. Gaze upon your face in the water, and you will see I am there inside."

Genevieve's heart skipped a beat as she noticed for the first time, a puddle looming on the other side of her room. She walked closer to the mirroring water, and as she approached, the figure of a man became clear. Tall and clothed entirely in black, his white mask covering about half of his handsomely chiseled face. As she drew nearer, his arm outstretched toward her, leaving a black gloved hand vulnerable for her to take hold. She gazed down upon this man with such beauty behind this mask of white and she could tell his features were indeed handsome. His dark brown hair was slicked back, allowing his features to become visible from behind the mask.

Not thinking twice, Genevieve knelt down and took hold of the gloved hand, which immediately led her below the dormitory.

Now face to face with the masked stranger, Genevieve was breathless. She couldn't take her eyes off this handsome man of mystery. He paused as she gazed, but quickly took her hand and led her deeper into the labyrinth of the Opera House.

As they glided through the dark stone hallways lit by candles, she could feel the warmth of his hand radiating through his glove into her hand. This warmth felt comforting to her in this damp place of solitude.

Every so often, the Phantom would glance at her as they journeyed, and her heart would become caught in a trance. All was silent, until they finally reached his musical domain.

The labyrinth came into a giant clearing, decorated by sculptures, lit by an infinite amount of candles, stone walls draped by purple and red velvet curtains, and finally, a grand piano and organ atop a case of stairs as though it were an altar.

"I have brought you to the realm of music—where music is played, composed, learned and taught," he said finally, leading her up the grand stairs, past candles and paintings, to the piano. Genevieve, in awe, kept looking around, not believing what was before her.

"It's beautiful…" she said softly, finally. She turned around and faced him. "We meet finally, masked stranger."

"Indeed we do," he replied, his lips full and his face glowing in the candlelight.

"You have brought me to music's throne, and I have come out of my own free will, tell me, shadow of mystery, what is your will of me?" She asked suddenly.

"For you to be the star of that opera," he replied thoughtlessly, "now sing."

He walked over to his piano and began playing a song he had been teaching her. She began to sing it just as she had rehearsed it in previous teachings. Yet, she couldn't help but wonder what this beautiful piece of music was from.

She finished the aria and glided up behind the Phantom and watched his strong hands move smoothly across the keys as he finished the song. He turned his head toward her and gazed into her eyes and stood up.

"Tell me, Phantom, what is this song from?" She asked as he moved behind her.

"That shall remain something that only I shall know, for the time being," he replied as he slid his arm around her waist. He leaned over to the piano and tapped something, and suddenly, music came from everywhere, yet he was not playing it.

Genevieve began to feel the music caress her as the Phantom slid his hand over her stomach. She met his hand with hers, and with her other hand, glided up to his face.

"Let the music caress you," he whispered in her ear. She closed her eyes and let the music take control of her.


	9. That Girl

9. The Girl

Disclaimer: I do not own the lyrics to the song Genevieve wrote. They belong to the song "I'm not that Girl" from the broadway show "Wicked". I thought the lyrics seemed to fit with what Genevieve wanted to say in her song about the Phantom. However, I changed a few lyrics to make it fit better.

As the Phantom held Genevieve, she felt all sense of fear flee from her mind and body. Never in a million years would she had wanted to be in this position about a month ago—but now, she only wanted to remain there. His mystique seduced her mind while the music drowned her into a state of complete nirvana.

The Phantom suddenly, unexpected twirled Genevieve around so she faced him. He held her hands firmly and stared into her eyes.

"Play for me, Genevieve," he said, as he glanced over at the piano. She turned her head to see where he gazed, then glanced back at him and nodded.

"Play what, shadow of mystery?" she asked as she made her way to the bench and took a seat.

"An original piece," he said, "I know you have many of those."

"As you wish," she replied as she thought through her mind as to which piece to play. She felt out the keys to see which ones felt most comfortable and then began playing.

As she played, she felt like singing the lyrics along with the music, not thinking about how the song was about the Phantom and Christine,

_Hands touch, eyes meet, _

Sudden silence, sudden heat  
Hearts leap in a giddy whirl  
He could be that man  
But I'm not that girl

Don't dream too far  
Don't lose sight of who you are  
Don't remember that rush of joy  
He could be that man  
I'm not that girl

Ev'ry so often we long to steal  
To the land of what-might-have-been  
But that doesn't soften the ache we feel  
When reality sets back in

Blithe smile, lithe limb  
She who's winsome, she wins him  
Dark hair with a gentle curl  
That's the girl he chose  
And Heaven knows  
I'm not that girl:

_Don't wish, don't start  
Wishing only wounds the heart  
I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl  
There's a girl I knew  
He loves her so  
I'm not that girl_.

By the end of the song, Genevieve felt that she had always had a tiny bit of jealousy for Christine and the Phantom's love for her. Now here she was, face-to-face with that same masked genius, probably in the same situation that Christine had encountered.

Fear wasn't even a thought in her mind at this point, just the serenity of the situation. Perhaps she had always hidden behind the façade of fear to mask her true passion for this stranger. It was all there in the song—the song she never played nor sang to anyone.

"I know of whom you sing of," he said finally. Genevieve jumped inside her heart, afraid her discovered her the hidden meaning of her song.

"Truthfully?" She asked, remaining calm.

"And you must never speak of her ever again!" He exclaimed loudly and strictly so that Genevieve jumped in her seat.

"I'm sorry, teacher," she began.

"If I am to be your teacher, then you must learn to trust me and I to you—we never speak of her—" she instructed.

Feeling slight bits on anger begin to boil in her, Genevieve interrupted the Opera Ghost.

"Who? Christine?" She asked wittily, making sure she mentioned Christine's name.

"Never speak of that name!" He roared, knocking Genevieve from the piano bench. She landed on the hard cold stone floor and just stared up at the fuming Phantom. Through apathetic eyes, she gazed at him, unchanging, not crying, though she wanted to. The Phantom, suddenly upset with himself, sat down on the bench and laid his head into his hands, hiding his face from Genevieve. He remained that way until Genevieve pried herself up to her knees and made her way over to the Phantom. Kneeling before him, she gently touched the side of his face that was slightly exposed by his hand and lifted his head tenderly. He looked at her through glistening eyes. She wiped a tear away from his eye and nodded her head in understanding.

"I am so sorry," she said softly, "but for me to trust you entirely, there is something I must do, master,"

He looked at her and nodded, trusting this innocent yet innovative young woman.

"I promise you, I will accept you," she said finally as she reached up and pried off his mask. Suddenly, the calm look on his face melted away almost again restored to the anger he felt before. However, as she watched Genevieve, she was unchanged, still kneeling before him, clutching the mask to her bosom. She gazed so tenderly at him, that his anger once again softened into a gentle gaze.

"I trust you and accept you, shadow--all of you," she said as she stood to her feet and took his hands, lifting him as well. She placed her hands on his face, kissed his misshapen cheek and then handed the mask back.

The Phantom gazed at the strong girl who's back was not turned toward him as he placed the mask onto his face. Who was this girl?


	10. The Phantom Never Came

10. The Phantom Never Came

"Genevieve! Where have you been all morning? Still in bed?" Meg approached Genevieve with a playful laugh.

"I'm so sorry, Meg. I overslept," she replied softly.

"Again?" Meg laughed.

"Yes, again," Genevieve forced a tired smile.

"Well come on, we've got a lot of rehearsing to do—the show goes up in two weeks!"

Meg dragged the torpid Genevieve away from her weary state of mind to backstage.

The rehearsal went well, yet it was terribly long. Genevieve felt every long moment, thinking of the Phantom and their first encounter last night. She wondered if she would meet him again tonight—would he teacher her more vocals from her dormitory, or would he take her back into the catacombs of the opera house? Genevieve couldn't get these thoughts out of her head, but finally, after painstakingly making her way through rehearsal, it ended. Feeling a bit lighter at heart, Genevieve made her way through the backstage and into the old music hallways to her piano room.

She took a seat at the bench and began plunking out a simple melody, slowly adding some chords and then finally the bass clef. It was just improvisation, but it sounded like something she might be able to add to her repertoire of original music. As she played, she began adding simple vocals to the melody on a simple "la", for she hadn't figured out the lyrics yet. Perhaps she could write a poem of some sort this evening.

By the time she finished this draft of the new song, dusk had fallen upon Paris as she peered out into the darkening hall. Taking the torch with her, she lit her way back to her dormitory, skipping her evening meal entirely.

Sitting on her bed, Genevieve waited for the Phantom. She wanted to hear his voice—and she waited; waited to hear his voice. Judging by the moon in the sky, she could tell night was getting later. Finally, remembering her song, she took out a piece of paper and began to write out some scrap lyrics. She read them over, and, feeling unsatisfied, tore them to pieces and threw them on the floor. As her eyes began to droop lower, she finally forced herself to bed. As her head hit the pillow, she fell instantly asleep; and the Phantom, never came.


	11. A Finished Score

11. A Finished Score

Disclaimer: Sorry about that last chapter—I just needed a simple filler chapter to get Genevieve out of the Phantom's labyrinth. This chapter will be MUCH better…I promise!

The opera house's first production ever of _Peter Pan_ was ready to go up—and it had been exactly two weeks since Genevieve had any contact with her teacher.

Weary from rehearsing and staying up late each night in hopes for her master to come, Genevieve was extremely fatigued and lethargic. Meg was noticing this change in her friend and decided to consult her.

"Genevieve, what's wrong? You haven't been yourself lately," Meg cornered her friend backstage.

"Oh Meg, I'm just awfully tired—I remain awake each night—I can't seem to get any sleep," Genevieve replied, semi-truthfully.

"Oh, that's awful! Why do you believe that is?" Meg inquired.

Genevieve looked around and whispered in close to Meg. "I do believe it is the Phantom, Meg; I'm paranoid and can't get my thoughts of him out of my head!"

"Vive, don't be silly. Get some sleep—he won't bother you," Meg said affectionately.

"I understand that, it's just—well—I guess I'm not too sure what it is," she said finally with a sigh.

"Come on, lighten up—we've got a show tonight and we need all the energy we can get!" Meg exclaimed with a huge smile. "Things will get better for you, Vive, I promise."

The two girls went on to rehearse for the rest of that day, having only a mere two hours before performance time, to themselves. Feeling uplifted by her friend's support, Genevieve decided that she had better things in her life than worrying about the Phantom and whether or not he would continue to privately instruct her.

Worn out, but energized, Genevieve commenced to her room to change for the performance. She walked into the dark room and shut the door. She turned to the one-lit candle and brought it to the others to lighten the room. When she turned around, she gasped. Putting the candle down, she made her way to her bed, where there lay a single white rose tied with black ribbon. Beneath it lay a letter, waxed by a skull. She broke the seal and read the note.

_My dearest Genevieve,_

_Surely your performance this evening will be astounding, but it will be nothing compared to your next performance. I'll be watching from my usual box 5. _

_Sincerely,_

_Opera Ghost_

Angry at the Phantom's sudden contact, she threw the letter to the ground, took her costume from her bed and left the room for the stage.

Once Genevieve arrived backstage fully costumed and made-up, she became slightly nervous. The Phantom would be watching her…yet again…tonight. What could he possibly want now, after two weeks of negligence?

"Places for act 1!" a voice called out. Genevieve ran to her spot, the Phantom still in her mind.

Thankfully, these thoughts didn't impact her performance in a negative way—they actually made her performance stronger.

At intermission, Madame Giry approached Genevieve with a surprised expression on her face.

"This came for you, dear," she said, handing Genevieve another rose tied with black ribbon. Genevieve looked at the rose and her heart skipped a bear.

"Oh, dear," she said finally, "the Opera Ghost."

"Yes, I am guessing he approves of your performance this evening so far," Madame Giry replied, "Don't disappoint him, mademoiselle."

Genevieve watched her walked away, feeling that she must know something, but what? Caught off guard, the voice came again, announcing places for the second half of the show. Genevieve slowly moved to her place on stage and awaited the rising of the curtain.

The show ended with a thunderous applause—for Colette, the leading alto. Genevieve bowed with the rest of the company, feeling a slight pang of jealousy for Colette and her getting Genevieve's role. Nonetheless, she held her head up high and mingled into the backstage area and avoiding the crowd, heading for her dormitory.

Once back in her room, feeling tired, she immediately changed into her bedclothes, laying her costume on the chair. She turned to her bed, seeing yet another rose, pink in color with a black ribbon tied around it. Sighing, she sat down and took hold of the rose. As she did, she felt a gust of wind as the candles all began to flicker.

"Genevieve," a voice whispered. Quickly, she turned her head around to see where this voice was coming from.

"Genevieve," it came again, this time louder and fully voiced.

"What do you want with me?" She stood up finally, her anger pouring out. "Master—if I can even refer to you as such, why do you wish to speak with me now after not contacting me for the past two weeks? What had your disregard been so?"

"I am still your teacher—and if you let me, I will remain so." The Phantom replied.

"I would have dreamt such a frivolous idea, except your negligence had caused me to believe otherwise."

"Come to me, Genevieve…there is much I wish to speak with you of," he said finally, after taking a long pause. Once again feeling entranced, Genevieve gazed across the room into the puddle of water that seemed to make it's home in the corner.

Before she knew it, Genevieve was hand in hand with her master of music as he led her back into his labyrinth of song.

When they finally arrived at music's throne, the Phantom turned to Genevieve, and took her hands.

"There is much I have to tell you," he said.

Genevieve's heart skipped a beat as she prepared to listen to this masked stranger speak.

"Speak, master, I will listen,"

"I know you will listen—I know all this, Genevieve…and I suppose I want you to realize that this tow week gap between the last time we met was due to my own bewildering from out first, and previous encounter. No other person I have known in my life has treated me in such the caring way that you had—and I supposed it had frightened me a little. Your strength, Genevieve, is enormous, and I truly appreciate it,"

He paused, still holding her hands. He looked down at their joined hands and then back at her and continued, "These past two weeks I have also been busy finishing my latest opera—a leading role which I wrote for you and only you. This opera is the reason why I let Colette perform as Peter Pan in my opera—I had intended for you to get that role, but since I had this role in the process for you, I decided I would let it pass. We are on to bigger and better things, my dear," he said, leading her up to the piano where his finished copy of his opera lay.

"I ask of your forgiveness, Genevieve," he said finally, "your inner strength was bigger than I had suspected and it caught me off guard,"

"You are forgiven, master," she replied. He cracked a smile as he reached for his opera.

"Here it is—the role of your destiny, Genevieve—my opera _Carmen_ will undoubtedly make you the opera's biggest star and I will work on the music with you," he said as he handed her the finished score.

She looked at the thick book in her hands as she flipped through the pages, she was amazed at this part written especially for her.

"Tonight, we work on act 1," the Phantom said, taking her hand.


	12. She Lost it All

_Disclaimer: Hey guys--I am SOOOO sorry this took forever. I have been the busiest I've ever been with college and such...but now that I'm done with high school forever (i know you're jealous lolol) I found some time to write the next chapter--that and I just saw the Phantom of the Opera at the Opera House in Boston two nights in a row--so that was so serious encouragement to continue! Enjoy!_

12. She Lost it All

"No! That is incorrect! Here, listen, it goes," The Phantom played the stanza again for Genevieve to listen and then repeat vocally.

"I cannot sing that!" She cried in angst. "This aria, despite its beauty, is absolutely impossible. We've been working on it for hours…this very same aria and I cannot get it!"

"Enough!" The Phantom shouted, slamming the libretto closed and onto the organ as he stood up, coming close to smacking the innocent and fatigued girl to the ground. Genevieve, frightened, fell to the ground without him even touching her. His voice, loud and booming, filled the labyrinth as icy tears began to roll down Genevieve's face.

"Do not even begin to cry and pity yourself, mademoiselle…your tears will do you no good!" his roar even louder filled Genevieve from head to toe with fear. On the ground, still, she backed away, crawling from the musical menace she had gotten herself into.

"Please, master, I meant not to offend you or your oper—" She stuttered and choked through her surging tears. Finally, overwhelmed with emotion, she flung herself completely to the ground and covered her face in her hands as she sobbed.

The Phantom, regaining composure, knelt down beside her. With a delicate, strong hand, he lifted her face. Brushing hair out of her eyes, he looked deeply at her before speaking.

"Are we calm yet?" He asked her in a melodic tone, his voice deepening. Genevieve nodded and gather herself together. The Phantom reached out and took a firm hold on her hands and lifted her to her feet. He sighed as he led a reluctant Genevieve back to the organ. He sat down and looked up at her.

"Now, mademoiselle," he began, picking up his music and turning once again to the aria. "are you a mezzo or a contralto?" He asked, almost bitterly, as he began playing a scale on the organ. He looked back up at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Well?" He asked again, waiting for her answer.

"Mezzo," she began.

"Right," he confirmed as he played another scale, "now, sing this scale for me." Genevieve sang the scale, and then he went up a half step, and she sang that scale. He kept going up by half step, and she kept singing the scale.

"A mezzo usually has a range from a high A to a low A, which is precisely yours, and then some," the Phantom continued, "which gives you no reason not to sing the aria—I know you can do it," he said looking back up at her. Genevieve breathed deeply and nodded affirmatively.

"Now let us begin once more." He played the aria and Genevieve sang with full integrity, determined to show her teacher that she would not fail. She finished the aria, hoping she had sung it entirely correctly. She closed her eyes are he played the final chord. The Phantom looked up at her.

"I knew you could do it," he said finally as he stood up. "Enough rehearsing for tonight—I should take you back n—"

"No!" She exclaimed suddenly cutting him off. Right as she said it, she covered her mouth with her hands, wishing she hadn't said it. Not saying a thing, the Phantom moved closer to her, not taking his eyes from hers.

As he approached her, he began to sing:

Night time, sharpens…heightens each sensation 

_Darkness, stirs…and wakes imagination_

_Silently the senses abandon their defenses…_

Genevieve gave up her defenses and let him approach nearer. She stood like a statue as he came up behind her and let his hands run down her arms and back.

_Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor_

_Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender…_

_Turn your face away from garish light of day_

_Turn your thoughts away from cold and feeling light_

_And listen to the music of the night…_

_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams_

_Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before…_

_Close your eyes let your spirit start to soar…_

_And you'll live as you've never lived before._

_Softly, deftly, music shall caress you_

_Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you_

_Open up your mind let your fantasies unwind in this darkness you know you cannot find_

_The darkness of the music of the night… _

Genevieve was again taken over by the Phantom's words. He caressed her and held her in his arms as he did on the first meeting. She put her hands over his and locked her fingers with his. Surprised, he stopped singing.

"No…don't stop," she said quietly as she turned to him. Taking her by the hands he led her about the labyrinth and continued.

_Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world,  
leave all thoughts of the world you knew before,  
let your soul take you where you long to be,  
only then can you belong to me.._

They stopped when he reached a part of the labyrinth she had never been. He wrapped her in his arms and continued once again from behind her.

_Floating, falling  
Sweet intoxication  
Touch me, trust me  
Savor each sensation  
Let the dream begin  
Let your darker side give in  
To the power of the music that I write  
The power of the music of the night…_

Genevieve's hands caressed his face. She turned around in his arms, and collided her lips to his. Feeling the moment, he kissed her back as they continued in a moment of passion. She pulled away to let him finished the song as she stared into his eyes,

_You alone can make my song take flight  
Help me make the music of the night…_

As he sang the last note, Genevieve took his hand and led him over to the bed.


	13. The Unmasked Stranger

13. The Unmasked Stranger

With a solitary hand, Genevieve pryed off the mask

_What is she doing?Dear God, how could she ever make love to such a gargoyle as I? Surely she believes to be making love to a demon in Hell. How could she even bare to look upon such a beastly face? _

"Shhh," _she hushes_ _me. Was I thinking aloud? Oh God, why am I letting her do this? _

"Because I want to," _Genevieve? Can you hear my thoughts? _

"I see it in your eyes,"_ Wow. I think I'll close my eyes. _

_This must be a dream—nothing such as this could ever occur in my misshapen life… damned to a life of solitude and music—now this? This…this…girl. This alto, making love to me. This can't be true. This cannot be happening. _

Oh God…yes this is happening.

"Master of shadows," _She calls to me. _"Surely, you are real enough…tell me, do you have a name which to be called by?"

"I do," _I replied with a light sigh as she continues. _

"Do tell it to me,"

"Erik," _That is a name I haven't heard myself speak in years. _

"Okay, Erik," _I never though my name could sound as beautiful and worthy as she makes it sound. Oh say it again. _

The Phantom awoke. His eyes opened and everything was blurry. It must have been a dream. He looked down and noticed another smaller body lay beside him, breathing gently beneath a blanket. Her long curling hair was spread about her, laced over her ivory body. He sighed and flopped back down, and shut his eyes once more. A smile danced across his lips as he stretched his arms and body from a long night of sleep and lovemaking. Tiredly, he rubbed his hands over his face, then, stopped abruptly. He shot up immediately, franticly searching for his mask. He had forgotten Genevieve had removed it the night before.

Jumping out of bed with surprise as he heard a sigh and a groan next to him, Genevieve turned over and opened her eyes.

"Looking for this?" She playfully asked, only half awake as she held up the mask as he put on his pants.

"Yes, please give it to me," he stammered as he reached out to her, half dressed in his shirt.

"Why?" she inquired, becoming fully awake and sitting up. "What do you have to hide from me, Erik?

He paused at the ringing of his name throughout the labyrinth. He remained silent as she sat, still as a statue, waiting patiently for his reply.

"I made love to you without your mask on, does that mean anything at all?"

"Yes," he said finally, sitting on the bed, "but I would please like it back, Genevieve…it is who I am…the masked stranger of this opera house. You cannot change who or what I am because of the instances of the night last."

Genevieve, stunned by his comment, and stung by the reality of his words, knowing them to be true, reluctantly handed the mask over to her secret love.

He turned around and placed the familiarity backed onto his face once more. He turned to leave, but Genevieve stopped him.

"Why did you let me make love to you?" She asked abruptly. He slowly turned towards her, not knowing what to say. All this was so new to him. He had never made love before to anyone. He had never had anyone want to make love to him.

"I should be taking you back," he said, avoiding her powerful green eyes staring up at him. As he turned, his eyes began to well up with tears, knowing that he did, but not wanting to love her. He knew that she must love him, but he had always loved Christine. _Last night was a freak accident,_ he forced himself to believe. Yet he knew it to be a complete lie, as his heart shattered with the sound of Genevieve's sobs. He remained with his back to her to prove to himself that he did not love her, that he loved and always would love Christine.

"You still love Christine," she said, choking on her tears, as through she could read his mind.

"Never speak her name in my presence!" He shouted, holding back tears as he stormed out of her sight.

Genevieve forced herself out of the bed. She clothed herself, feeling ashamed and embarrassed.

"I was so foolish to think he could love me," she said as she wiped her tears. On a piece of manuscript paper left on the dresser, she wrote the Phantom a note, which expressed to him her utter shame and irrationality of the night before. She folded it neatly and left it on the bed. With a final look around, she disappeared into the darkness, back up to the light and reality of the world above.


	14. Secrets

14. Secrets

Disclaimer: The lyrics used in the song Genevieve writes are not mine…they are in Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, extended edition in the Houses of Healing scene. The song is actually sung by Liv Tyler…but I wont get into! Haha! I just thought the lyrics kinda fit for the moment—and it's SUCH a pretty song!

The ballet was rehearsing when Genevieve retuned. Silently, she changed into her ballet attire, and slipped into the rehearsal. Madame Giry, noticing the girl, paused the lesson.

"Mademoiselle, so nice of you to join us," She said strictly. Genevieve looked up from tying her slipper, stood erectly in first position and looked Madame in the eye.

"Terribly sorry, Madame Giry, it won't happen again," she said firmly. Madame Giry, having an odd feeling about the past few weeks, let it slide and resumed the lesson, but could not take her eyes from Genevieve for the rest of the rehearsal.

When rehearsal ended, Meg grabbed Vive by the shoulder and pulled her side.

"Vive, what's gotten into you? Over sleeping on a regular basis and now not even showing up the ballet lessons on time? C'mon Vive, something is up," she said, staring Genevieve in the eyes.

"It's my new voice teacher…" Genevieve said firmly, staring her friend in the eyes back. Meg was clueless to this hint, as she just stood there, looking at Vive. Then, suddenly, Meg jumped back with a gasp.

"No!" She exclaimed. Genevieve clamped her hand over Meg's mouth.

"Shh…shhh!" Genevieve whispered. Meg looked around and the two girls ran to the nearest piano room and locked the door.

"The Phantom of the Opera, Genevieve?" Meg shrieked. Genevieve walked anxiously around the small room, looking at the scraps of manuscript paper. Finally she turned to her friend, her face glowing red in the candlelight.

"Yes…yes Meg. He has come to me every night in my mind…not actually being in my room. I hear his voice, and he teaches me, Meg!"

"Genevieve, you mustn't get involved with this, he is a dangerous man. You remember what happened with Christine!"

"Meg! Was it not you who said I might be his next student?" Genevieve snapped back. Meg jumped at her friend's hostility, and Vive, realizing this, sat down next to her.

"I'm sorry, Meg. I don't know what's happening to me."

"It's alright, Vive. Everything is going to be fine," Meg reassured. "He is dangerous, but, I know you won't let it get beyond teaching."

"Meg, I went to the labyrinth," Genevieve confessed.

"You what!" Meg shrieked again.

"Shhhh!" Genevieve hushed. "Yes, I did…he taught me the aria for his next opera," She replied quietly.

"Oh thank God," Meg sighed. "Please, try to come back earlier next time you go, Vive. My mother already suspects something…and she probably suspects the Phantom is involved."

"I understand that, Meg. I am careful. Besides, I know now that he is still in love with Christine, so I have nothing to fear," Genevieve said as she looked down. Hearing these words come out of her own mouth only broke her heart even more.

The two girls were silent for a moment, both pondering about Christine, and the previous year.

"So, what is it like down there?" Meg asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Genevieve laughed, "well, it's really dark getting there, but once you get to his musical throne, it's—hey, you've been there before!"

"Yes, but only briefly—I was too scared to stay, and I honestly don't really remember it. It must have changed since the fire too."

"I would image not. It's entirely stone. There is no way the fire would have affected it. But, truly, it is beautiful. Curtains of red and purple velvet hang high from the walls and ceiling—and candles, everywhere. There are a bunch of stone steps that lead up to what almost appears to be an alter—and up there, he had a magnificent pipe organ and a beautiful piano, all lit by hundreds of candles—it's so tranquil and mysterious…" Genevieve trailed off, staring at the wall, thinking of the man behind the mask.

"What does he look like?" Meg inquired, now fully engaged by her friend's tale.

"Oh, and the Phantom—he is brilliant! Tall, dark, mysterious—he has dark hair slicked back, and against his olive skin…and his dark eyes, filled with both passion and all the sorrow in the world. Oh! And his lips—full and soft and when he sings, the sometimes pucker out like this," Genevieve mimics the Phantom, "and the mask, Meg…the mask is so white against his face, whiter than the whitest cloud in the sky. He dresses all in black, but with a white shirt, and he usually wears a cape, sometimes black gloves that cover his hands…but oh! His hands, they are so strong and when they play, his fingers float over the keys like butterflies in the summer,"

"It sounds to me like somebody is in love with the Phantom of the Opera," Meg laughed.

"You mustn't tell anyone, Meg! Please promise me!" Genevieve begged her friend as she quickly came out of her soft trance. Her eyes were filled with angst as she stared at Meg helplessly.

"Oh God, Vive, you are in love with the Phantom!"

"Please, Meg! You must keep it secret! Nobody can find out—_anybody!_" Genevieve pleaded.

"I promise, Vive, I promise," Meg consoled her troubled friend. "So, does he have a name, or do you just call him 'teacher'?"

"Erik," Genevieve sighed, as she closed her eyes, imagining him telling her that he loved her.

"Erik, good name," Meg stated with a smile as she lifted her friend from her shoulder. "Come on, Vive, let's get out of here. Your secret is safe with me."

"You go on ahead, I'll meet you in about an hour, I've got something I must do first," Genevieve said, turning to the piano.

"Oh no, Vive, you're coming now! The last thing we all need is for you to be late again!" Meg laughed as she pulled her friend to her feet.

"No, Meg, I won't be late this time! I promise…I just need to write something," she said, sitting back down.

"Alright, but I'll be expecting you at lunch in exactly one hour…on the dot!" Meg laughed as she left the room.

Alone at last, Genevieve turned to the piano and began plunking out a few notes and scribbling on the scrap manuscript paper that was left in the room. She wrote down some lyrics to go with the melody she plunked out, and then added a few chords. _A song about last night,_ Genevieve thought to herself, as she played rough draft of this new song.

With a sigh, You turn away, with a deepening heart, no more words to say You will find that the world has changed forever  
The trees are now turning from green to gold, And the sun is now fading, I wish I could hold you closer 

Genevieve finished the song and took the pieces of manuscript with her as she left the room.


	15. A Truth Untold

15. A Truth Untold

After joining her friend and the other ballet girls for their usual lunch break, and following their evening rehearsal before dinner, Genevieve stole away for private time. This was usually the only time in which she could find utter peace and quiet.

She glided down the dark halls to the bathing room. Lighting candles to see, she shut the door and latched it shut, so that no one could disturb her. She turned to the bathtub and turned the water on. While waiting for the tub to fill up, she undressed herself. Dipping her foot into the water, she paused, her attention caught by the sudden flicker of a candle. She turned her head abruptly, and realized it was only a breeze coming from the window. Shutting the window tightly, she fully submerged herself in the tub. As she closed her eyes, she played songs in her head, humming the tunes aloud, but ever so softly.

She thought long and hard about the night before with the Phantom. Her heart aching inside, but fully understanding of the truth, she forced herself to believe only what her mind could comprehend.

_He does not love me—he loves Christine, and always will_, the thoughts continued.

Last night was my mistake—I had mistaken his love for my voice and music, as his love for me. I can only hope that he will still have me as his student. Dear God, I was such a fool to believe he could ever love me over the beautiful and talented Christine. Yet, I will not dwell on this mishap, for it only burdens me. I'm strong and can look past this and move on to a more professional relationship with Erik—my teacher.

As her thoughts continued on, her eyes closed, Genevieve hardly even noticed that half of the candles lit were now burnt out—and the window was tightly shut.

Humming a tune now, softly aloud, Genevieve began to fall into a dreamy sleep. Half awake, she lay submerged in the warm water, her thoughts and melodies flowing as one through her mind like a placid pond.

As if from nowhere, there was a voice:

_Floating, falling…music shall caress you,_

Genevieve's eyes flew open as she sprang up in the tub looking around for the voice. She knew exactly who's voice it was: Erik's.

"Master of music, why do you sing to me at this hour of the evening?" She asked unemotionally.

"I do not just sing right now, Genevieve," he said, his voice sounding near, as if he were in the room with her. Immediately, she jumped out of the bathtub and wrapped herself completely in a towel, and pulled her robe over her.

"How dare you come into my privacy while I am bathing!" She snapped coldly.

"Genevieve, what's gotten into you, my child?" He asked, his voice smooth, almost seductive.

"Phantom of shadows, I…I…do not know what to say," she replied, more softly that before, tears beginning to weld up in her eyes. She turned her back to the voice, but as she did, the Phantom emerged from the shadows, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Stiffening her neck, so to not turn and see his wondrousness, she kept looking in front of her.

"Well, if you have nothing to say, then shall we begin a lesson this evening?" He asked, his voice soft.

"Well, now that you mention it, I do have something to say," she said firmly, gaining strength and courage to face him as she turned around.

"What is it?" He asked, taking her hands in his. For that brief instant, her heart began to melt for him, but as quickly as her heart melted in that moment, she hardened it as she took her hands away.

"I'd just like to say that…I…we...I made a mistake, the other night. Yes, we made love…or rather; I made love to you, because I thought…I never would have if I hadn't thought you loved me…which I mistook for something else. I was foolish to think you would be in love with me…just my voice—it was a rather foolish, and funny, mistake, but, nothing to regret…just a silly mistake," she said with a chuckle, trying to seem nonchalant about the entire event despite the quivering in her voice.

"Anyways, I would love to continue as your vocal student, because I feel you have a lot to offer me as an opera singer and I would hate for this to end because of my recklessness thinking—and to let you know, I am not in love with you, nor was I ever—just in love with the thought of having you as my teacher, so I would love to have a lesson this evening as well."

When she finally finished speaking, she looked up at her teacher and noticed that the expression on his face was anything but what she expected to see. As she looked into his eyes, which she now realized where a brilliant blue, seemed to have a glassy coating beginning to cover them. In the brief moment he let he gaze into his eyes, she saw all the emotions his soul had ever known. His handsome face was once again plagued by an inner torment that seemed to seep out of his eyes. He turned quickly away from Genevieve and closed his eyes tightly, then blinked rapidly, before turning back.

"Well, we shan't keep waiting then. Let's rehearse," he said, his voice deep and lacking emotion.

Still in her bathrobe, the Phantom led Genevieve down the hall to her bedroom, for neither of them dared to go back to the labyrinth.

They rehearsed the aria from the night before, and to her gladness, Genevieve was able to successfully sing it in it's entirety. Genevieve learned most of Act 2, and to her surprise, the lesson only lasted a mere hour and a half.

"I must be going now," her teacher said, closing the libretto. Genevieve closed her eyes, truly not wanting the Phantom to leave her. Yet, she opened her eyes and nodded.

"I mustn't keep you any longer, master," she replied, her eyes almost welling up.

"Until we meet again," he took her hand and slightly bowed his head and turned and left. Genevieve held the hand that Erik held only moments ago. She quietly sat on her bed, thinking about what she had said earlier and the reaction she got from him. She never would have expected to see the look of torment on his face that she saw that evening.

_Maybe he does love me?_ She thought. _No, it can't be. I mustn't let myself fall again. _

Genevieve covered herself in her blankets and lay down. She closed her eyes and images of her handsome teacher danced in her head. The tighter she held them closed, the more vivid the images came to her. Finally, tears streaming down her face, she buried her head into her pillow and prayed for morning to break her melancholy solitude.


	16. The Soul Within

16. The Soul Within

Genevieve sat in the piano room, composing. Circles of fatigue darkly lined her eyes as she wearily scribbled down notes on the manuscript. With her other hand, she took hold of her shaky hand as she wrote, so to make sure no mistakes were made. She set down the quill on the piano and sat back, studying the music before her. She took a deep breath, and resumed her work.

It had been approximately two months since Genevieve and the Phantom had their encounter whist she bathed. Since then, they met once a week to rehearse for the Phantom's opera, _Carmen_, and once a week, did Genevieve see her masked infatuation, her secret love; once a week, was the Phantom reminded of that very night his student made love to him, and once a week, did he regret not telling her how much he truly loved her.

Since the bathing incident, Genevieve had grown more and more into a secluded solitude. Only Meg would she confide her secrets in, and only Meg did understand her state of being. For hours upon hours, Genevieve locked herself in the piano room, composing what would soon be her first, and very own, opera. Her sole inspiration for this feat: her teacher, the one love she knew she could not have. In a regular state of despair for her love, she wrote and wrote, everyday. Not even Meg knew this task, which Genevieve had placed upon her self; this lone burden was great enough to scour through to her very soul, the soul which longed and desired to be with the masked one; the masked mystery whom she visited once a week.

"Genevieve, you must come and eat! You must be absolutely famished, working in there all day long!" Meg called from behind the prison door.

"I must finish this, Meg, please understand," Genevieve replied with her remaining energy and strength.

"Do promise me you will eat once you have finished," Meg pleaded.

"I promise," she sighed, as she shut her eyes. A flash of her love's face came instantly, and she quickly opened her eyes once more. She waited a moment to make sure her friend was gone, before she played her final aria of Act IV.

"Dear God, let me finish this opera by the time of the Masque Ball next month," she cried, as pearled tears ran down her ivory cheek, pale from weariness. Genevieve hoped to present this opera at the ball, in hopes the managers might choose it as their next show. Little would everyone know, including her masked stranger, that it would be secretly dedicated to the man she loved. He would never know the truth she bared inside for him, for she could never bare to feel the pain of his eyes gazing upon her sad face, his heart belonging to somebody else.

Finally, Genevieve stood up, with all her strength inside, gathered her mass of music, and forced herself to the door. She trembled weakly as she made her way down the icy hall to her dormitory. Wrapping her score in a velvet cloth, she ever so gently laid it under her pillow. Suddenly, as if her soul were taken from her body, she collapsed to the floor instantly.

When at next she awoke, Genevieve heard the most beautiful of sounds, musical sounds. Her eyes were blurry as she looked around the see where the music was coming from. She rubbed her weary eyes, no longer feeling the fatigue of her hard day's work at the piano. She sat up and her heart steadily quickened. She was no longer in her dormitory, but no other place than that of her beloved master. She saw him at the piano and her heart raced, hearing the sounds of utter nirvana escaping from his soft hands as they glided across the keys of ivory. She slowly stood up, yet as she did, Erik noticed her, and quickly ran over. He put his arm around her to make sure she would not fall. As his hand brushed gently over her waist, their hands accidentally met. Her heart skipped a beat, as she turned her head towards his, and their eyes met. For that brief moment, Genevieve caught a glimpse of both, all the happiness and sadness in the world. Erik, knowing the girl could see right into his soul, adverted his eyes, and quickly led her over to a chair.

As she sat down, his hands glided down her arms, and finally to her hands. On one knee, her masked teacher remained, while their hands lingered together.

"Master, why have you brought me here?" Genevieve finally asked, her voice immensely soft.

"Genevieve, I have been watching you these past weeks and you are weak. I have never seen a student so devoted to her music, as you are," he replied, then quickly letting go of her hands. "I happened to be watching you when you collapsed in your chamber this evening, and decided to take you back here to care for you until you have recovered."

"My heart gives you many thanks, master," she replied, forcing a smile across her lips. Seeing this, the Phantom knew she was dying inside. He continued to gaze upon her, and soon, a true smile danced upon his lips, as he took her hand in his.

"My dear, I see you dying inside," he said finally, his face growing solemn once more. "I know true solitude when I see it, and you, Genevieve, I pray, must never become like me!"

"No! I shan't become like you, master," Genevieve exclaimed suddenly, her voice filled with an uncertain angst. Her face was twisted, as though tormented by his words—his very being.

"What torments you so?" He asked, trying to pry out of her what he knew lay within both he and her.

"I can't tell you, teacher of shadows," she replied, closing her eyes, "for, my soul is too weak."

"Please try. I will listen," he said, holding her hands more firmly.

Genevieve breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. Her heart was racing, racing faster than any horse, for she knew, that if she were to tell him she loved him, she would be exposing herself to be hurt. Finally, opening her eyes, she knew she must tell him how she felt, maybe not use the actual word 'love', but let him know she cared deeply for him. It would be the only way for her burdened soul to get closure.

"Friend and phantom," she began with an oxymoron to show her dual feelings for him, "for so long I have harboured such emotions within me, and so quickly they have burdened by very being within. The moment I first heard you sing, my heart flew with such caring devotion that I have never known possible for any living being to feel. I made love to you that night for one reason, and one reason alone, master. Within my soul, I possess the greatest amount of sincerity and caring for you, that one could possibly hold. Though, I've found, that my devotion to you has begun to weight down my heart with such a weight that I can no longer function as a person should. It has become a burden on my sorry heart, and knowing that your feelings are not the same as mine for you, only burden my caring even more." She finished as smoothly as she began, and to some reason, breathed a sigh of sudden relief, which fell upon her.

"There, now you have it," she said finally.

The Phantom's eyes remained gazing upon her for some time before he spoke. As she looked into his eyes, she saw a new light within that began to glow, shining through his eyes.

"It is true I harboured emotions for Miss Christine Daae," he began. Genevieve, shocked at his mentioning Christine, was fully engaged in everything he was to say, even if it meant breaking her heart.

"The feelings I felt for Miss Daae, however, I have realized in time, were solely for her voice and talent for music. It seemed she had been the only one to understand my solitude, but as it turned out, she did not. Mademoiselle, I promised myself to never feel such passion for anyone or anything since Miss Daae's leave. Yet, through your voice, I sense something more than just a passion for music—and in my very own soul, I sense my own passion for more than just your voice. My feelings have begun to grow exceedingly past what lay within the world of music, for you, Miss. Laureate. My heart, mademoiselle, too, is burdened, and has been for as long as I can remember. Yet, you have shown me such compassion, that my heart no longer beats with pain, but rather the gentle feather of a dove, does my heart beat for you. I, too, Genevieve, feel for you as you for me."

At that moment, Genevieve's heart, though racing from anxiety, pounded almost through her chest with a newfound burst of strength and glory. Instantly, an enormous smile planted itself on her newly beaming face. Her love, as well, smiled the biggest he had ever smiled in his life. Genevieve wrapped her arms around his neck and showered her masked love with kisses.

"Oh! This is the best news I believe I have ever heard!" She exclaimed finally.

The Phantom, still struck with happiness, could not respond, for the smile on his face was still too dominant. He merely gathered her in his arms and let his lips collide with hers, to enjoy their first passionate moment together.


	17. Inquiries and Unveiling

17. Inquiries and Unveiling

"Meg, where is the world is Genevieve?" Asked Madame Giry with exasperation.

"She must be resting, mother. I know she is incredibly tired—"

"What! Tired again? That girl…that's all she is these day—tired!" Madame exclaimed, frustrated.

"Mother, trust me, she is not well and I know she just needs rest," Meg said, giving her mother 'the eye', almost telling her about the Phantom being involved in Genevieve's life.

"Dear God, child, what is going on in her dormitory after hours?" Madame shrieked, losing her patience.

"Mother! Please! What do you _think_ is going on?" Meg asked, indirectly confirming the hidden truth.

"Genevieve has had visits from the Opera Ghost?" Madame asked, finally regaining herself.

"That, I cannot say, mother," Meg said, averting her eyes from her mother's strong glare.

"Meg Giry, I will not tolerate this nonsense. Is she? Or isn't she?"

"Mother, you mustn't tell anyone!" Meg pleaded.

"So she is, then?" Madame confirmed.

"Well, yes…but no! But…yes…I think!" Meg cried, holding onto her mother's sleeve.

"My child, do you really think I would interfere with the Opera Ghost's wishes? If he wishes to have her as his student, then he shall do as he wishes," Madame replied, calmly.

"Oh, mother, Genevieve will but kill me if she finds out anyone else but me knows!" Meg exclaimed.

"Meg, come now. Genevieve will not know that I know—and even if she did, neither you, nor I, will tell anybody else. What the Opera Ghost does in the Opera House remains secret between himself, and whatever else he does,"

"Thank you, mother," Meg sighed, finally.

"Now, as for poor Genevieve—it is no wonder she is fatigued! Visits from the Opera Ghost are no doubt, tiresome. He is truly a master of music, Meg," Madame said, cleaning up the ballet dressing room.

"Well, Vive has not only been having visits from her teacher, but, she is busy writing something too," Meg replied, helping her mother pick up costumes.

"Ah, yes, it doesn't surprise me that the Opera Ghost would choose a student such as Genevieve—such extraordinary talent in music, she has,"

"That is true," Meg responded softly, with a shiver, as she looked over her shoulder into a mirror.

"Meg?" Madame asked, as she saw her daughter peering around the room, as though she saw something strange.

"Oh! Yes?" She inquired suddenly.

"Is everything alright?" Her mother asked finally.

"Yes! I was just thinking about Genevieve, that's all," Meg replied quickly.

"Are you prepared for the Masque Ball next month? You do know how long it takes the make the costumes, Meg," her mother insisted.

"Yes, mother—I am ready for it. I just have a few finishing things I must do to the hem of my gown," she replied, getting annoyed with Madame's persistent questioning.

"And Genevieve? Is she prepared?" Madame asked, folding a costume.

"I would imagine so," Meg replied with a sigh, and returned her gaze to the mirror.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Genevieve and Erik sat together at the piano, playing duets. All seemed completely natural for the two of them, with one exception to before this meeting: neither of them was clothed, as they sat beneath a blanket on the piano bench.

"Genevieve, I shall play you Mozart right now—you will cry," he said suddenly, breaking their musical silence as he turned to her.

"Then play for me, Erik," she replied, her voice soft.

Erik placed his masculine hands on the keys, shut his eyes as he thought for a moment, then, began to play. Genevieve immediately recognized it as movement number 5 from his _Requiem_, the "Recordare". It was her favorite movement—she had sung the alto part in the quartet when the Opera House presented the _Requiem_ between opera performances. As Erik played, Genevieve sang softly the alto harmony. As she sang, Erik joined her, singing the tenor part. As they harmonized, Genevieve closed her eyes and slipped into a world of passion and music with Erik.

As he finished playing the movement, Genevieve was almost nearly in a trance, her eyes still closed. Erik turned and gazed upon her fair face.

"Genevieve, do you still wake?" He asked, gently touching strawberry-cream cheek. Her eyes fluttered open with his tender touch, and a smile glided across her lips. She took hold of his hand.

"Oh, Erik, I want you to make love to me again," she sighed, shutting her eyes again as she clasped his hands tighter and bringing them to her cheek.

Erik kissed her, pressing his lips to hers, ever so gently.

She felt the blanket fall from her shoulders as he ran his hands down her back. He then picked her up and brought her back to the bedroom where he laid her among the mass of sheets and blankets from their earlier lovemaking. He casually crawled on top of her, kissing her mouth, the moved to her neck. As he kissed her, she ran her hands up his back, and finally to his face. She stopped kissing him momentarily, and he held himself up.

"What's the matter?" He asked.

"This," she replied, as she pulled off the mask, revealing the unfortunate half of his face. He closed his eyes, and then re-opened them, seeing her still gazing at him, just as tenderly as she always had. She smiled up at him, which relaxed him, and he too, smiled back at her. She pulled him down to her and resumed kissing him.

They made love for the second time that evening, and after, remained in bed together, for all the world and time had seemed to stop, just for them.


	18. She Sings On

18, She Sings On

Disclaimer: The lyrics in the chapter are not mine—they belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber. However, I highly suggest listening to the movie soundtrack of Phantom of the Opera, disk 2, number 3, 'Journey to the Cemetery' while reading this chapter. It fits nicely to the tone the story takes…hehehe no more hints!

"Genevieve! Where on Earth have you been!" Meg exclaimed as she saw her friend emerging from the dormitory hall. Genevieve, half-awake, turned to her friend and smiled sleepily.

"I have been rehearsing with my teacher," said Genevieve, keeping all that she really knew, hidden deep inside.

"Oh! For _Carmen_! Yes, that is right—Genevieve, I am so glad that you are Carmen," Meg smiled at her fatigued friend.

"Thank you, Meg," she replied softly.

"When you sang that aria in Act IV the other day, all I could think of was Christine, Genevieve,"

"Is that so?" Genevieve asked, suddenly turning to her friend, beginning to fully awaken.

"Yes, Genevieve, she is all I could think of,"

"Why is that, Meg?" Genevieve's voice began to quiver and her hands began to shake, as thoughts of her old friend, and her lover's past obsession ran through her head.

"Oh, Vive! You don't remind me of her vocally—in fact I believe you voice to be much better than Christine's," her friend said, sensing Genevieve's worry. Genevieve's eyes relaxed, and the moment breezed over her, as a smile formed on her lips.

"Then what is it?" She asked, almost with a chuckle.

"The situation, Vive. All I could think of was Christine in the Opera Ghost's _Don Juan Triumphant,_ and how you now, his student as well, are performing the lead in his own _Carmen_. The similarities are uncanny, Vive," Meg replied.

"True. It's as if the Opera House is experiencing déjà vu," Genevieve said with a sigh.

"But things are infinitely different with you than with Christine," Meg said with a grin.

"How so?" Genevieve tempted her friend, grinning back.

"Well, for one thing, Christine was infinitely frightened by her master, and you, for one, are not. Also, Christine had Raoul courting her, and you have no Vicomte de Chagny,"

Meg and Genevieve laughed.

"True, I'm not one to have a Vicomte courting me," Genevieve smiled, thinking of her Opera Ghost in the labyrinth below her.

"Not true, Vive! You are just as worthy as Christine to have a Vicomte! Christine and Raoul were childhood friends, Vive. That's how they knew each other—they were meant to be together," Meg said, staring into her friend's eyes, searching for the truth that lay behind.

"Yes, I forgot that," Genevieve replied, darting Meg's stare.

Meg continued to stare at her friend, beginning to see features about her that never seemed to appear on her once spotless friend. Her eyes, the most foretelling sported dark circles, which seemed to be the biggest indicator of fatigue. Genevieve, always strong enough to look somebody in they eyes when speaking to them, could no longer do so. This was Meg's indicator that her best friend was hiding more than she wished to.

"Vive, what's been going on with you? You haven't been the same in a long time," Meg asked finally, hoping to pry open Genevieve.

Genevieve, as though not hearing Meg's voice, but rather, music, playing in her head, did not reply. She closed her eyes and let the music in her head continue, hoping to block out Meg's questioning.

"Genevieve! Will you please answer me!" Meg shook her friend. Genevieve held her eyes shut even harder as she could feel Meg's eyes burning her face with her concern.

"Oh God! Oh God, Meg!" Genevieve cried finally, her eyes still glued shut as Meg shook her.

"What! What is it, Genevieve?" Meg asked, as she stopped shaking her friend. Genevieve fell to the floor, holding her head and rocking back and forth on the ground. Meg knelt down and held onto her friend as big tears rolled down Genevieve's cheeks.

Finally, Genevieve opened her eyes and stared into Meg's eyes. Her eyes were filled with pain, and red from her tears. She slowly opened her mouth and began to sing:

_In sleep he sang to me,_

_In dreams he came…_

_That voice which calls to me,_

And speaks my name… 

Genevieve broke into hysterical crying as she finished the line, and Meg held onto her.

"It's Christine, Meg…she's singing in my mind. She's all I can hear, Meg--her voice singing that very phrase in my mind. Oh God, Meg, she's haunting me!" Genevieve exclaimed finally, as she wiped away her tears.

"Vive, Christine is gone. She and Raoul married and left Paris months ago. There is no way she could be haunting you, Vive—she's not dead," Meg said softly, as she stroked her friend's hair.

"How do you know?" She asked.

"Because she writes to me all the time, Vive," Meg replied, trying to break a smile onto her friend's face.

"I believe she is alive, Meg…but she is in my head—her voice, singing—her voice is haunting me, Meg—and I don't know what to do! I just pray each night that it will stop, but it never does. It comes to me right before I fall asleep, and then I never can. I rehearse with Erik each night for the opera, then I try to sleep, but her voice runs through my head…" she trailed off, as though hearing the voice in her head, but too faint to hear every word sang.

"Vive, does Erik know you hear her voice?" Meg asked.

"No! I could never tell him such a thing, Meg!" Genevieve exclaimed. "I could never bring myself to speak of Christine to him," She was careful not to mention that she and Erik were lovers. She knew she could mention Christine to him at this point in time, and it would not affect him in any way, but she feared what he might feel if he knew that Christine sang to her in her mind after rehearsing with him, before she went to bed at night. She feared he would not understand her pain and anguish in hearing that voice irking her each night. She wanted to find the reason for Christine's presence in her mind, when she never used to haunt her.

"Do you think she sings to you because you are now Erik's student?" Meg asked finally.

"Possibly…but then one would ask, _how_? If she is not dead, then how can her voice sing in my head, Meg? I know she is not dead—but I cannot fathom _how_ and _why_ she haunts me still!" Genevieve cried. "There are nights when I wish my head to be ripped apart from my body so only I could feel tender sleep in silence!"

Meg consoled her friend as she began to weep once more.

"I think you should speak with Erik—perhaps he has something to do with what you hear, now that you are his student," Meg suggested, in a calming voice.

"Oh, how I wish I could Meg! Yet, I was his student long before she sang to me,"

"True, but there must be something there that has changed—some turning point which has caused this to happen, Vive. Only you know that turning point," Meg said.

"I don't think Erik has anything to do with this, Meg. I think it is something beyond out comprehension of the situation—either that, or it is the most simple answer, and it lays right underneath our very noses, waiting to be found," Genevieve said, her inner strength beginning to shine through once more, as she and Meg stood to their feet.


	19. You Know

19. You Know

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera…but as you know, I do own my story and characters I create. Sorry it has been eons since I have last updated—I've been wicked busy with college n'shit haha! Well, I hope this chapter holds up to your standards! Oh a special thank you to those who have reviewed cus it definitely affects the writing and how frequently things shall be written, so thank you to: RamJas (You rock my sox! Woo!),Brightly Black (that French was wicked cool, perhaps it may be in the story at some point!) Darlene K (I think we are thinking in similar directions for this story hehe), Ethalas Tuath'an (Shweet name haha) and Turtle Child (I'm glad you liked the song reference) Your reviews rock and thank you so much for reading! I'll try to update more often! Without further adieu, the story continues…_

Genevieve was laying in her bed staring at the ceiling, holding onto her head, every so often gripping her blankets as a release to the tension building up in her head. After a few moments, the voice stopped, and she managed to shut her eyes for a couple minutes of release. Yet, no such luck continued. Christine's voice echoed once again, and a lonely tear managed to escape Vive's eyes, trailing down her cheek and landing in the collected puddle next to her head.

"When is this going to stop?" She suddenly sat up and shrieked, wishing and hoping that Christine could hear her and maybe feel her agony.

"_Shhhhhhh_," a voice rumbled. Was it in her head? Or was this voice actually coming from some place else. Vive got out of bed and wiped her tears as she looked around the room.

"Who's there!" She screamed, almost on the verge of insanity. "I can't take it anymore! I just can't! This needs to end right now!" She collapsed to the floor and began sobbing.

"_Come to me…_" the voice rang again.

Vive's head lifted as she recognized it at once.

"Erik?" She whispered quietly, slowly standing to her feet and wiping her tears.

"_Come…_" The voice seduced.

"Come where?" She forced back, her voice hushed by her anxiety as she glanced around the dark candle-lit room.

"_Come…_" The voice was heard again, but this time near her mirror. Vive glided over to the mirror and gazed at herself.

"Come where? How do I get to you?" She asked finally. "Who are you? To where do you wish me to go?"

"_Close your eyes…"_ The voice instructed.

Genevieve closed her eyes as she was told, and remained standing in place directly in front of the mirror.

"Erik? Is it you?" She asked, her eyes remaining closed.

"_Shhhhh_," The voice came. Suddenly, Vive felt a warm glove on her wrist pulling her forward. _"Keep your eyes closed,"_ the voice coaxed, as she was led forward.

It felt like centuries of walking to the blind Genevieve. She could only imagine where she was being taken as the air grew colder, then warmer, then colder, then warmer again. She dared not stray her hands from her body, fearful of what she may touch on a wall or what was in front of her. Finally, the hand ceased from leading her, and she stopped immediately.

"_The mystery lies before you, my dear_," The voice said finally. "_Open your eyes_,"

Genevieve slowly opened her eyes to find herself in the familiar labyrinth of her beloved Erik; the finished score of _Carmen_ was placed before her. She quickly turned all around to find the man behind the voice, but Erik was no where to be found.

"Erik?" Genevieve asked, a grin forming on her face. "Erik? Was that you?"

"Erik has finished your opera," Erik said, finally appearing as if from nowhere.

"Why all the secretiveness?" Vive asked, her grin forming into a bigger smile as he approached her.

"No particular reason," he said, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her forehead.

"It is really finished then?" She asked, glancing over at the score.

"It is. Read it, if you like. It is your copy to have," He said finally, letting go over and picking up the score and handing it to her. He placed the beautifully bound score into her gentle hands and watched intently as she flipped through the pages and pages of music.

Once she finished reading the score, she glanced up at Erik and smiled seeing how pleased he was that she liked his work.

"It's fabulous, Erik," she said finally, "Thank you so much,"

"The pleasure is all mine," he replied, looking at her tenderly through dark eyes. There was a moment of silence between them before Genevieve spoke again.

"It feels like it's been so long since I've seen you, Erik," she said finally.

"It does feel like a long time," Erik agreed, taking Genevieve's hand. "And yet, it's only been about a week,"

"Well, still a week is a long time," she said with a smile. He smiled back and leaned in to kiss her. Yet as his lips touched hers, she pulled away. Something felt different—not so much wrong…but definitely not right.

"What's wrong, Genevieve?" he asked, suddenly feeling her anxiety.

"Nothing…well I don't really quite know what's wrong," she replied, suddenly Christine's voice ringing in her head. She shut her eyes tighter than ever, and collapsed to the floor, holding her head as though in utter pain.

"Genevieve! What's wrong!" Erik exclaimed, kneeling down to her and caressing her gently.

"Erik I can't—" she trailed off. He lifted her head and saw a river to tears streaming down her face. As he gazed into her pain-filled eyes, it was as though he too could hear Christine's voice ringing as well.

"Do you hear it too?" Vive asked finally, through sobs.

"Hear what?" He asked.

"Then it's true! She is haunting just me!" Genevieve collapsed again at the sound of her voice echoing.

"Who? Who is haunting you?" He asked, trying to seem calm and gentle.

"You know perfectly well 'who'!" She shrieked.


	20. The New Opera

20. The New Opera

_Disclaimer: I am so sorry that it's been like an epoch since I've last updated! But thank you all SO much for reviewing my story!!!!!!!! I hope you all enjoy it--I'll hopefully be updating this one more often now!!_

"Genevieve, I'm afraid you have me at a loss for words," Erik replies tenderly. Genevieve merely has her head burring beneath her hands as she leaned against the security of Erik's chest.

"Just make it stop—make it stop," she cried.

"Make what stop?" Erik's voice is more irritated and filled with angst of the unknown.

"Christine! It's your beloved Christine, Erik! I hear her voice inside in my head!" Vive exclaims through sobs.

Erik's eyes widen and his face tenses at the thought of his pristine soprano.

"Christine is gone, Genevieve," Erik replied dryly.

"She's not gone—she's here—she's inside my head, Erik! I hear her voice almost constantly," Vive exclaimed.

"Impossible," Erik responded as he stood to his feet. Genevieve stood as well, taking a step back from Erik as he turned to his organ and sat down.

"Erik?" she asked softly.

"You should go," he said in a low voice.

"Is everything alright?" Vive persisted, her tears beginning to try on her cheeks.

"I said go!" Erik boomed suddenly. Startled, Genevieve ran from the labyrinth, not one looking back at Erik who sat solemnly at the organ.

The following day, Genevieve woke with the sun as she always had, except this morning in particular did not excite her as it should have. The phantom's opera was finished, complete with a leading role for her, but the way things ended with her dear Erik the night before had hardly meant anything good would come out of it.

Vive readied herself and made her way through the opera house in hopes that Madame Giry would have some mundane task for her to learn this morning. To her dismay, the Madame was no where to be found and Meg was absent as well.

Alone, amongst the other chorus girls and musicians gathered on the stage, Genevieve stood, waiting for the news of the new opera that would be to go up.

"Attention to all of you!" The manager of the opera house exclaimed over the commotion on stage, "We have been left last night with a request for our next opera production,"

"There you are!" Meg exclaimed to Genevieve suddenly. Vive turned her head and smiled at her friend.

"I had no idea where you were this morning!" Vive replied smiling, "where's your mother?"

"Over there! She got a letter from the Phantom—a request to do an opera he wrote," Meg whispered.

"Our next opera is called _Carmen_ and it was written by our very own opera house phantom," the manager announces. There is a sudden commotion through the crowd. Everyone seems astonished that the Phantom would even attempt at writing another opera after his massive failure with _Don Juan_.

"Next, our Phantom has also requested that none other than Genevieve play the role of Carmen, as it is written for a mezzo," the manager finishes.

"Oh Vive!" Meg exclaimed with excitement as she hugged her friend.

Genevieve just smiled through sad eyes as her friend hugged her and the rest of the chorus girls congratulated her. Inside, Genevieve was hoping that her opera would not turn out as the same fate as Christine's—and that her beloved Erik would soon forgive her for her outburst last night; that he would forget Christine and continue to love her.

"We shall start rehearsals immediately!" the manager declared finally as he began passing out the musical scores to all the leading roles. Genevieve took hers—the exact binded score the Erik has given to her the night before.

"He requested that you have this score, mademoiselle," the manager said as he gave her the score. Genevieve held it with care as she flipped through the pages so carefully written. She must have dropped it and left it behind last night when she fled the labyrinth. She closed her eyes and held the score tightly to her breast.

"We shall begin at the close of Act II," the music director declared over the crowd of chorus members.

Genevieve flipped in her score to the end of Act II. As the pages flapped over, a piece of paper floated down to the stage floor from her score. Genevieve bent down and picked up the folded paper. Holding her score up, she opened the paper and held it in her music to read it.

_My dearest Genevieve,_

_My deepest apologies for last evening. I was merely shocked and thrown into a reverie of nostalgia with your mention of Christine. It was not a good place for me then and now, and wish to leave it all behind. I pray with all my heart that this opera pleases you and that you will finally get the opportunity to shine in center stage as you always should have. I shall see you soon, my love. _

_Erik_

Genevieve folded the paper and tucked it into her breast. She then held up her score as the chorus sight-read the end of Act II just in time for her solo—her first aria in front of the her fellow musicians and performers.

Meg stood idly and watched as her friend sang her aria—the same aria Vive had sung for Meg before in a practice room. As Vive sang, she glanced up at Meg every so often, getting the feeling that the only thing running through her mind was déjà vu with Christine.


End file.
